If You Love Me
by TheWhisperedLie
Summary: Apparently, there was a much more concerning, more infuriating issue at hand, and Erik had every intention of dealing with it. "If I love you?" Erik turned to glare at Christine, making full eye contact. He noted with mild satisfaction the slight bob of her throat as she swallowed, obviously aware of his anger.


Erik barreled through the door to the rooftop of his opera house, a reluctant soprano in tow. He regretted the harm he was most certainly doing to her delicate wrist by dragging Christine so roughly behind him. Still, Erik did not regret it enough to release her. The police, Gerard and that ridiculous boy were not far behind them, and would undoubtedly remove her from his keeping if they caught up. After her performance, and in spite of his illness, he simply would not allow such a thing to happen. So- onward he charged across the roof.

"Let her go!" Erik nearly rolled his eyes as the voice of the Comte rang out behind them. Christine tried to turn in his hold but he would not be swayed, and merely dragged her along.

"I beg you please, let her go!" the boy cried out once more, and Erik suppressed a snarl as he turned to face this nuisance, shoving Christine behind him.

"She sang for me tonight. She's mine." Erik growled dangerously, fighting the urge to simply rid the boy of his life where he stood. It was only his awareness of Christine behind him that stayed his hand.

"Erik, please, he means you no harm," she pleaded from behind him, obviously aware of his internal struggle.

The Comte however, seemed intent on proving her wrong and provoking Erik's wrath. No sooner had the words left her mouth than the boy was charging at him, rapidly closing the short distance they had been from one another. Incensed, Erik his slashed his blade through the air in front of the Comte, effectively halting his advance. He vaguely noted Christine's terrified shriek at his display of violence, but there was little to be done about it, and he could not simply allow her to be taken from him.

"Erik!" Christine cried, distraught, and managed to wrench her arm out of his grasp.

Panicked, Erik turned to catch her, forgetting his rage in his fear of losing her again. It was only when the Comte's arms arrested his torso that Erik remembered his rage, and fought viciously to free himself. He showed no restraint, but to the credit of the Comte, Erik struggled in his efforts to fling him off. The sound of shouts and footsteps across the roof alerted Erik to the presence of the police force that had only just made their way to the scene. In another situation, Erik would have certainly scoffed at both their incompetence and tardiness. As it was, however, he was in no position to mock them, being preoccupied with ridding himself of the parasite of a man who was currently latched onto his shoulders.

Fueled by his fury, and sensing a lapse in his opponents grip, Erik savagely twisted, effectively throwing the Comte off his back. Before the boy could launch another attack, Erik threw out his arm in sweeping arc, solidly striking his adversary's chest. The blow threw off the Comte's balance, and sent him sprawling backwards onto the hard rooftop. The momentum then carried him, tumbling, clear over the side of the building, where he held fast to the edge and dangled precipitously over the streets below.

Ignoring the scream that tore out of Christine's throat, Erik made haste to pursue his foe. Much more surefooted than that idiot boy, Erik fairly flew over the roof, his rapier held high and his cloak billowing out behind him as it caught the chilled air. His lip curled as he beheld the Comte helplessly hanging over the side of his opera house, gripping the edge and trying in vain to lift himself back up.

Erik, intent on finishing this fight once and for all, easily loosed one of the Comte's hands from its hold, and the boy swung slightly, now relying on one hand for support. Erik could almost feel the rush of victory as he locked eyes with the count, mere seconds away from watching as he fell to his certain death on one of the many sidewalks of Paris.

"Erik, please!" Erik's focus was jarred as Christine's voice sounded desperately over the rooftop, and he turned to look at her as she pleaded with him. "Please!"

For a moment, Erik simply looked at the simpering Comte, only to be filled with disgust and contempt. Mentally shaking off Christine's despairing cries, Erik reminded himself that the boy had started this fight, and it was only right that he should end it himself. Turning back to the task at hand, he was anxious for the satisfaction of seeing the mangled body of his rival on the street below. Perhaps he would even release a pitiful scream as he fell, but Erik scolded himself for imagining such a perfect scenario. Just his death would suffice.

"Erik, if you love me-!" Christine's tremulous voice had adopted a warning tone- or was it more threatening?

More than her piteous, hardly convincing warning or threat, though, Erik was disturbed by the words she had thrown at him. Ignoring the boy- as he really wasn't in any position to escape- he turned to look at Christine for a moment. This was not the first time she had uttered those words, and they were beginning to test his patience. He certainly did love her, or he wouldn't have risked stealing her away in the face of the police, however incapable they had proven themselves. Though perturbed, Erik would not allow her foolishly uttered words distract him from the Comte any longer- it was past time for him to meet his end.

"Erik, if you love me, please!" Erik ground his teeth as those same words escaped her mouth and fell upon his ear.

Straightening to his full height, Erik stared down at the Comte. Though he tried desperately, the boy could not gather enough strength to haul himself back to the safety of the rooftop. However reluctant Erik was to postpone such a gratifying moment, he saw no harm in leaving the fool to his feeble attempts at righting himself. Apparently, there was a much more concerning, more _infuriating _issue at hand, and Erik had every intention of dealing with it.

"_If_ I love you?" Erik turned to glare at Christine, making full eye contact. He noted with mild satisfaction the slight bob of her throat as she swallowed, obviously aware of his anger.

"In the _event_ that I love you?" Erik continued in crystalline, sinister tones as he stalked toward her in deliberate, measured steps. For the first time, he released upon her the full effect of his rage. He could feel it rolling off of his tensed form in waves which crashed upon the slight woman before him, causing her to tremble.

"Should it _happen_ that I love you?" closer, ever closer he moved toward her, careful not to speed up as he seethed. She would learn what it meant to cross him. She would learn what it meant to question his endless devotion to her.

"On the _condition_ that I love you?" mere feet separated them, and Christine backed away as he showed no signs of halting his approach. Erik distantly registered the sounds of the policemen milling about in confusion, Gerard among them, none of them sure how to react to this latest development. He cared little, as he was well aware that they were under orders not to fire at him until ordered. No. Erik honed in on his target, his eyes never leaving hers.

"_Assuming_ that I love you?" the corner of Erik's lip curled in a caricature of a smile as he saw the realization dawn in Christine's eyes- she was backing closer and closer to the edge of the opera house, and there was not much rooftop left between her and a drop to her death. Heedless of her plight, Erik continued to stride toward her, stopping short only when a few inches separated her shaking form from a deadly fall, and even less separating her from Erik's form as he towered over her.

"Erik, please," Christine whimpered, frightened, as tears brimmed in her eyes. Erik, usually softened by her tears, was remarkably unmoved.

"I have been kind. I have been patient." Erik lowered his voice so only Christine could hear, nearly hissing the syllables into her ear. "I have taught you. I have guided you. I have protected you."

At this, Erik took another half step toward her, causing Christine to start, and consequently lose her balance. As she felt herself begin to fall backwards, Christine loosed a sound that was half scream and half sob, terrified that she was seconds away from meeting her demise. Her descent, though, never truly began, as Erik wrapped an arm around her waist and supported her light frame. Nevertheless, Christine was shaken, and clutched at the fabric of his shirt as she wept, hysterical sounds making their way out of her mouth only to be muffled against his chest.

"And I would _never_ allow _any_ harm to befall you." Erik used his free hand to stroke her head before moving it under her chin, tilting it up so she had no choice but to look at him. He subconsciously tightened his grip, though he was careful not to bruise her skin. "Yet you have the _nerve _to doubt my love. 'If you love me', you dare say to me?"

Christine could only blink up at him, an errant tear trickling down her cheek and lighting upon his hand.

"No, Christine," he said more tenderly, using his thumb to banish the trail of her tear. "_If_ is an assumption, a condition, a _question_. My love for you is not an assumption- it is a certainty. My love for you is not a condition- it is a solution. My love for you is not a _question_, Christine- it is an answer. _Because_, Christine- never if."

Wrapping his arm more securely about her waist, Erik slowly backed them both to a safer distance away from the building's edge. He moved his hand from her face to the base of her neck, burying his fingers in the warmth of her hair.

"_Because _I love you, every second of my time is spent in agony," Erik's anger receded, being engulfed by the sadness that had haunted him since she had fled from his subterranean home. "_Because_ I love you, I ache to be near you, to hear your voice, to see your face. _Because_ I love you, I grow more desperate to have you, and more devastated that I do not. Yes, devastated! Even my health is failing because I cannot _bear_ to be parted from you. _Because_ I love you, I am weak and insufficient._ Because_ I love you, I am more than willing to risk my life for the chance to hold you in my arms."

Erik paused to nuzzle the top of her head with his chin, and lowered his lips so they nearly brushed the shell of her ear. He shuddered to be so close to her.

"And _because_ I love you, Christine," he intoned in a dark whisper. "I will even _kill_."

Now it was Christine's turn to shudder, and he felt the tremor just as if it had been his own. He released a sigh against her neck and pressed her tighter to his chest. Even so, she made no move to struggle in his embrace, and he momentarily lost himself in her warmth.

"Sir, we've got him surrounded!" one of the policemen informed the inspector.

Broken from his peaceful state of being, Erik's head snapped up to verify what he had just heard. It was true, to his left, his right and even from a lower level of the roof, armed policemen lined any potential route of escape. He was trapped. Setting his jaw, he slowly released Christine and turned to face the inspector.

"Erik?" he turned to look at his beloved, seeing every unspoken question in her eyes. His heart ached with every beat.

"It's time for you to go, Christine," Erik murmured softly, brushing his fingertips over her cheek reverently.

She shook her head and clasped his hand between both of hers.

He nodded, gently pulling his hand away. "Go."

Christine stood a moment more, tears filling her eyes before she turned and hurried away. Erik could hear her tiny sons as she was ushered to safety by the officers along the wall. Now alone, Erik stood completely exposed, finally ready to die.

"Hold your fire." The inspectors voice rang authoritatively, satisfied with his work. "I want to take him alive."

Erik's heart clenched as the words met his ears, and his worst fear was made a reality. Horrified by what being captured would mean for someone with a face like his, he began to panic, feeling as trapped as he truly was. Desperate for options, Erik's head jerked about as he searched for an escape, his heart threatening to explode in his chest. At last his eyes fell on Gerard, who was separated from the inspector and the police force.

Erik read the expression Gerard's face- just as fearful and helpless as he felt. Erik raised his arms in a gesture of defeat. Never breaking eye contact, Gerard hesitantly, questioningly, reached into his coat and removed a revolver, reluctance written in every movement. Having seen his salvation, Erik clenched his fists and drew his arms in close to his side, nodding vigorously to Gerard. Erik pleaded with his eyes. Do it: let this nightmare end.

"Gerard! What are you doing?" the inspector saw Gerard raise his weapon.

Erik's heart pounded as Gerard aimed, squeezing his eyes shut before looking once more up at, needing his assurance before he fired the shot. Again, Erik nodded. This was the only way.

Heartbroken, wishing there was any other way, and knowing there was not, his father fired the gun.

Erik heard the shot and felt the impact of the bullet. Pain flooded his body, and he clutched at his chest. Losing all sense of balance, he fell forward and heard the air rush past his ears just before he landed on one of the roof's lower levels, flat on his back.

The world around him faded and spun, in and out of focus. He felt strong arms lift his torso off the cold rooftop and lean him against a solid chest. He heard the police force advancing upon him, and heard his father's voice break as he told them to get back. Erik felt himself going numb, and he allowed himself to be wholly supported by his father.

A sound, though, made its way to his ear, and he struggled to identify it. He opened his eyes to behold a blurred image of a woman in white beating around the police force, hurling unintelligible abuse at them through her tears. She rushed toward him, falling to her knees at his side and taking his hand between both of hers, her breathing irregular from her crying.

"Christine…" he breathed, at last recognizing her. "Christine."

She released a harsh sob and merely looked at him for a moment. Erik tried to make his eyes focus so he could clearly see her once again before he died. It was just when he had managed to get a clear view of her that she moved forward. Erik felt her hand at the side of his face and nearly reveled in the touch before cold dread captured what was left of his heart. She was going to take off his mask.

"No," He moaned desperately, though he couldn't move a single inch to deter her. "No, no…"

Regardless of his protestations, she removed his mask. Humiliated, he waited for her face to fall. Erik hated that her disgust would be the vision that followed him into the afterlife. Her face never did fall, though. She only leaned in closer and closer, until he finally shut his eyes and merely inhaled her scent. He was shocked into sensation by the warm droplet of water that fell on his cheek- a tear? -and then rocked into senselessness when he felt her soft lips upon his forehead- a kiss.

"Oh, Christine…" he sighed, and happiness bloomed in his chest.

Erik closed his eyes as everything had become too blurry to make sense of, and let his head spin in a delirium of pleasure, allowing it to fall back against his father's shoulder. With the memory of Christine's kiss upon his wretched face, Erik was overwhelmed with velvet blackness, and faded into nothingness.


End file.
